pick your poison
by heartlessabrina
Summary: loving someone and being in love are two very different things


Hi! It's Neve, this is my first fanfiction so it might be a bit shitty (Sorry) but I hope you enjoy it!

xoxo

Riley;

I can taste _her_ lipstick when he comes home and roughly pecks my lips, a forced sign of affection that I have to put up with. I can smell _her_ musky yet floral perfume when I hug him, which is rarely because the smell intoxicates my mind and I'm left feeling more alone and numb than I normally am. The worst thing is we haven't had sex in 6 months and 23 days, _yes I've been counting_ , yet he has scratches tracing his back from where _they_ have been **fucking**. But we are Riley and Lucas aren't we? RileyandLucas. LucasandRiley. Ever since middle school, that's what our roles are and what they are meant to be.

We're meant to be the modern day Cory and Topanga, right?

I'm awaken from the thoughts that were racing around my mind as the door opens wide and in clumsily comes Lucas, drunk with alcohol or drunk with happiness, with a stupid smile on his face, only one _she_ can give him, slurring apologies when seeing me sitting at our small dining table with two plates of cold food and a candle. 'Shit,' he curses, 'Riley, I'm sorry I completely forgot'. 'We can just skip dinner then and move onto dessert' I reply while biting my lip.

I grab his hand dragging him into the bedroom, I pull off my robe and let it drop slowly to the floor revealing my petite frame in black lingerie that hugs my curves.

I push him down to the bed and straddle him and start to suck on his neck, attempting to make hickeys like those I've seen displaced on his chest and neck recently. I bite down into his skin, not piercing it but leaving a mark, because I researched online and it said guys like that.

But instead of a moan or a smile I get pushed off him and told 'what the fuck are you doing?' then he stalks off to the bathroom to get away from me and probably text his _mystery girl_ about his desperate girlfriend.

I pull myself into the covers of our bed, covers that I hoped would be thrown around in a night of passion and _love._ Tears start to cascade down my face gently, _she_ could do it better and _she_ could please him. Yet, I could not and that thought was terrifying. I wanted him happy and I didn't know if the best thing for his happiness was to stay in our relationship.

With salty tears dripping down my cheeks I came to a realisation _, what if he loves her_?

My heart started pumping faster in my chest, I always had thought he had lusted after _her_ and that's why he stayed with me. _She_ was his release, his wild fantasy and I was the love of his life. But maybe I had got it wrong, I could be the distance memory and _she_ could be the girl keeping him up at night and possessing his thoughts and making him have that stupidstupidstupid smile on his face.

I hear the bathroom door open and I quickly wipe my eyes, I have to play my role of the oblivious doting girlfriend. Yet, I, Riley Matthews, am far from oblivious. He walks in smiling, clearly after texting his **lover** , and gets into bed without a word making sure to stay as far away from me as possible.

Like touching _me_ would be cheating on _her_ , like _she_ is the girl that he's grown up with and is meant to be in a relationship with. As if I'm his _dirty secret_.

I wait until I hear his breaths steady and turn into snores and my eyes fill with the salty reminder of my sadness, like they do every night, and wish I could be _her._

I wish to be the woman that holds Lucas' _heart._ I wish to be the love of his life.

I want to wake up and for this all to be a dream, a silly and idiotic dream and I'll tell Lucas as we sit in the garden and eat breakfast together and his forest green eyes, the very ones that I got lost in on the subway in middle school, will turn to small slits in his face as he is laughing so hard that his nose scrunches in the cutest way possible and he tilts his head back letting the laugh fully pass in lips in a deep and loud chuckle that will send a shiver down my spine as his laugh is my favourite melody. I thought my laugh was his favourite melody, but I'm sure he's erased that tape and replaced it with a giggle, much unlike my deep throaty laugh that I despise.

A soft giggle, like a kids when they hear something that amuses them. But _she_ is most definitely not childlike. I turn in the bed and face his back and stare at the red nail marks that cover him. I didn't scratch him, I haven't been that intimate with him for a long time. Yet _she_ has.

I never ask about the marks, because I can't work out what I want to hear less falling out of those lips, which I used to kiss passionately _, the truth that he is cheating on me or the lie._

If I want to hear his voice crack and stutter as the falsehood passes his lips, if I want to see his eyes scan around whatever surrounding we are in to avoid looking me in my chocolate brown eyes. The eyes he is meant to be tantalized by. Yet, whenever he looks in my eyes I'm sure he sees _her_ eyes, and I'm sure they're wonderful and dazzling. Much better than my plain eyes. I'm sure.

Our relationship shouldn'tshouldn'tshouldn't be like this, we are meant to be in love.

He loves me, I hope.

So I close my eyes, the tears staining my face, and I mutter those words, 'he loves me', hoping if I say them enough that this situation will disappear and we can go back to what we are meant to be.

 **RileyandLucas. LucasandRiley. Not LucasandTheMysteryGirl, oh and Riley.**


End file.
